


debbie gallagher makes us all laugh

by memitims



Series: consider ur fav ship [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gross Nerds, Laughter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian, mickey, bad jokes, and cuddling</p>
            </blockquote>





	debbie gallagher makes us all laugh

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the first bullet point on [this](http://kierensimon.tumblr.com/post/90887735050/yes-but-consider-ur-fav-ship-making-rly-bad) list ('yes but consider ur fav ship making rly bad jokes rly late at night and full on snort laughing w/ each other')

Mickey's eyes were closed, Ian's breath warm in his ear, as they lay tangled up on the worn-out mattress. He wriggled a bit in Ian's arms, trying to find the most comfortable spot, and sighed gently. He knew Ian was still awake, because his hand was lightly stroking Mickey's, covering his fingers in a paper-light grasp, the rhythm lulling Mickey to sleep. 

The rest of the house was silent too, thank god, and Mickey didn't have many nights when he was purely relaxed, when he didn't feel jittery, when the idea of falling asleep didn't make him want to crawl out of his skin. Ian's chest against his back didn't fix everything, but it sure as hell helped. 

He could feel Ian shifting his head around a bit, his nose brushing the back of Mickey's neck, and Mickey felt warm all over. He didn't know how Ian did it, made him feel like this, but it was the fucking best thing.

"Mickey?" Ian breathed against his neck, his voice sleep-soft, and Mickey's heart clenched, because sometimes he still couldn't believe that he got to have Ian like this, all his defenses down, this boy (who cared so much) pressing all his warmth into Mickey. And sometimes he still couldn't believe that he, Mickey Milkovich, gave himself back in the same way (let himself be held, let his hands dance gently over Ian's skin, let his feelings shine through in a way he'd never shown anyone before). 

Mickey let out a little groan of annoyance, because despite all he felt for Ian, he still wanted to be fucking asleep right now. 

"The fuck do you want?"

There was no real heat behind his words, and Ian knew it. 

"I just remembered," he said, curling in closer to Mickey's back. "Debbie's really into stupidly corny jokes right now, and she made me promise that I'd tell you this one she invented. She said I couldn't go to sleep tonight until I made sure that you heard her joke. And that I documented your reaction. For science, or some shit. But probably because she thinks you're way cooler than either of her older brothers."

"That's true," Mickey muttered. "I am damn cooler than you and Lip."

"Shut up," Ian said, nuzzling further into Mickey's neck, "and listen to her joke." He paused to adjust himself, so that his mouth was right up against Mickey's ear.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?" Ian's breath tickled, and Mickey squirmed under the sheets. 

"No, I did not hear about the restaurant on the fucking moon." Mickey tried to sound annoyed, it was too late at night for this shit, but it was fucking difficult to be anything other than incandescently happy with Ian snuggled around him. However much he pretended to hate it, he really didn't have any defense against Ian's stupid face, never did in the first place. He tore them all down. Hell, he burnt them down with warm, lopsided smiles and kisses like air. Mickey never even fuckin' saw it coming. 

"It has great food, but no atmosphere," Ian replied, cheekily.

Mickey lost it. Slowly, at first, but his small chuckles became full-blown peals of laughter. He could feel Ian's chest shaking too. It wasn't even that funny, it was cheesy as hell, but something about the way Ian said it made Mickey clutch at his chest with laughter. It quickly became full-out snorts, and Ian joined in, muffling his laughter against Mickey's hair. But that was unacceptable, because it was 1 a.m. and Mickey was feeling weird and he wanted to _see_ Ian laugh, see his forehead scrunch up, and his mouth open wide and happy and _amazing_ (god fucking damnit he loved Ian). 

So Mickey flipped over, still laughing, and he took Ian's head between his hands and brought their faces up close. Ian looked kinda shocked, and Mickey just smiled at him, because he and Ian didn't laugh together nearly often enough, didn't smile at each other as much as they should, but when they did, it was fuckin' starlight. Like, Mickey forgot to think about anything else, forgot to be afraid, forgot about everything except the sound of Ian's laughter. 

"You're a fucking loser," Mickey said, matter-of-factly, and Ian just shrugged. Mickey brushed his hands through Ian's hair, relishing the smile it brought to Ian's lips. He could be tired as hell, and that smile would still make his chest ache. 

"Not my joke," he giggled. "And you're the one that thought it was funny."

Mickey didn't really have a response to that. 

"Fine," he said, indignantly. "You can tell Debs it was a hit. But don't you dare sic her on me with more corny-ass jokes" (Mickey kinda secretly hoped Ian did, because Debbie Gallagher was a pretty fuckin' great kid).

"Sure," Ian responded, that trademark glint of mischief in his eyes telling Mickey that he wasn't really agreeing to anything. "Of course."

Mickey cuffed him on the side of the head, lightly. "You're a terrible fucking liar, Gallagher."

Ian just yawned in response, and pulled Mickey into his arms again. Mickey flipped back around and nestled into Ian's chest, like he belonged there. Mickey didn't really think he belonged anywhere, but if he made a list, Ian Gallagher's arms would probably make the top. Somehow, despite everything, they fit. They fit like two crooked puzzle pieces, the two that don't really look like they'll fit, but you still try to slot them together, and miraculously, they slide into place (and Mickey was so, so glad about that). 

"G'night," Ian murmured against his skin. "Thanks for listening to my stupid joke."

Mickey didn't know how to say you're welcome, how to say _of course_ , how to say _anytime, please, you drive me crazy but I don't care if you wake me up just to talk about the fuckin' stars, I want it, I want it, I want it_ , but he figured that twining their hands together and dropping a quick kiss on Ian's knuckles was as good as he was gonna get. He knew Ian would understand, because outside of Mandy, he just got Mickey like no one else ever had, and that was pretty damn special.


End file.
